


something inevitable

by tattooedsiren



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/pseuds/tattooedsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked.<br/>But he can't do it. There are bigger things at play here. He would be betraying Jessica - she’s done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her. So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear." [AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike in the pilot episode.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	something inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I started writing Harvey/Mike fics I wanted to write an AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike, but could never really figure out the story. And when I eventually started writing this I got about 4000 words in and hated it. I liked the _idea_ of it, but the execution was just really terrible. When I mentioned this on tumblr, debating whether to just throw it out or keep going, everyone was really supportive, encouraging me to keep writing. So I did something I've never done before - I started the fic again from scratch, and it was ten times better the second time around. 
> 
> So a big thanks to all my tumblr peeps who encouraged me to keep going (because I probably would have abandoned this fic if it weren't for you guys), and most especially to my dear [smartalli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/smartalli/pseuds/smartalli) \- who looked at my original draft and was a great sounding board and cheerleader and beta. You are my queen of contractions and I love you and am so very thankful for you.

"Look, this is all pretty fascinating stuff but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work. I'll make sure that Serpico isn't around waiting for you."

Harvey crosses the room and opens the door, peeks around the corner and is greeted with the sight of a room full of Harvard educated lawyers (who all automatically straighten and preen when they notice Harvey looking at them). There are no cops, the coast is clear, and yet looking back to Mike he doesn't want to send him away. Those generic douches waiting for him are probably going to be ten times less interesting or capable than the pot-dealing dropout currently sitting forlornly at his desk.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked.

But he can't do it. There are bigger things at play here. He would be risking his whole career. He would be betraying Jessica. She's done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her. 

So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear."

Mike nods, picks up his briefcase (full of pot, Harvey thinks, and seriously, the kid really should be too smart for this) and crosses the room. They linger together in the doorway, each oddly reluctant to let this moment end. And though they don't know it yet, they both have the same reasons for feeling that way.

Harvey should just let him go, but instead he finds himself pulling a business card from his suit jacket pocket and, even more incredibly, scribbling his personal cell number on the back before handing it over.

"Here. If you continue being this terrible at your current career choice you'll probably need a lawyer at some point. Call me if you need anything."

"Disregarding the fact that you're a corporate and not a criminal lawyer, I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford you," Mike says, and there it is, that spark that Harvey saw the moment they met.

"Well, my boss is always telling me to do more pro bono work," Harvey smiles. He holds out a hand, which Mike shakes. "Good luck, Mike."

"You too, Harvey," Mike replies, and he walks out the door without looking back.

 

 

Mike sits on his couch, the briefcase of pot open on the coffee table in front of him, Harvey's business card resting atop the bags of weed.

Fuck, that was close, Mike thinks. 

The thought has two meanings. The most obvious is that he nearly got caught. Why did he let Trevor get him into these situations? He knew better. Hell, he told Trevor the stats on death via drug deals versus death row. He had his eyes wide open and he still did it anyway. And he was nearly arrested for his trouble. Awesome.

And then there was the other meaning. It was stupid, but just for a moment he thought he had Harvey convinced. That maybe he could finally get out of this … whatever his life has become. It was like he was presented with the exact opportunity he didn't know he wanted, only not only did he not get it, now he knows what it is that he wants but can't have. 

Denial is easier. It's easier to just pretend that he's okay, that he's over getting kicked out of school and getting knocked into a different life. But he isn't. Spending that time with Harvey, however brief it was, made him realize how much he craved something better, something more than this life he has made for himself. Harvey challenged him, and he felt the fire within flicker, felt that indescribable something that happens when you go toe to toe with someone who is a worthy challenge. 

And now that he has realized that, acknowledged and accepted that he wants something more, he can't go back to pretending like he doesn't care. He can't.

His cell phone rings, and looking at the caller ID he can see that it's Trevor. He hits the ignore button. Fucking Trevor.

 

 

If Harvey thought hiring Mike and running the risk of anyone finding out that he had hired someone with no law degree was bad, it was nothing compared to hiring a completely idiotic (though admittedly qualified) lawyer who Harvey wants to strangle on an hourly basis. Seriously, the guy was infuriating.

"So what's happening with the case?" Harvey asks his new associate.

"She gave me a full account of what happened. But there's no way to prove her assertions that Hunt did what he did," Rick Sorkin tells him.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point of being a lawyer. Finding the proof," Harvey says, turning his head away so his subordinate can't see his eye roll.

"And how do we do that? There's no physical evidence. They did an in-house investigation which turned up nothing. How do we look for something that isn't there?"

And this time Harvey does let him see the eye roll. "There is _always_ something there. Look, this is what the job is. Follow the leads, track down evidence, build your case. Think about it - if he's done this once, he's probably done it before. So subpoena the records of all the former female employees who worked directly under Hunt. Maybe one of them will talk."

Rick nods. "Okay, got it. Thank you, Mister Specter."

Harvey watches him walk back to his cubicle and has to actively suppress the need to throw something. He never should've hired Rick. He only did it because he was the last interview of the day (he showed up ten minutes late for his appointment, the appointment which Mike stole, but waited in the waiting area all afternoon in the hopes he could still get in to be interviewed, so Harvey had to give him points for tenacity if nothing else) and he was so bored by the seemingly never ending stream of Harvard clones answering his questions with stock standard answers that the mere thought of enduring another day of the same torture was horrifying. So he hired Rick to just get the whole thing over with.

And of course a decision based on that criterion was bound to fail. Rick has no instinct, no drive. How he even graduated Harvard Harvey can't work out. It didn't seem like he really wanted this. Not like Mike did. (Okay, that was probably unfair. Rick _did_ want this. He just didn't want to _work_ for it.)

Seriously, he needs to stop thinking about that stupid kid and his wasted potential. There were millions of people out there in worse circumstances than they probably deserve. He doesn't care or even think about any of them. So why can't he stop thinking about the apparent genius who couldn't make it through one year of college without doing something irrevocably stupid?

It's for the best. Hiring Mike would have been a mistake. He would've done something stupid and exposed Harvey and then where would he be? Best to just forget the whole thing and deal with all the current problems in his life. Like his new idiot associate.

 

 

Mike goes to visit Grammy. He tells her that he doesn't have the money for her new place but that he'll figure it out (and all the while his brain is picturing the briefcase of pot hidden in the oven at home). Grammy, who has always been the sharpest and most clever person Mike has ever met, gets that look in her eyes, the one he's seen far too often, that says she knows he is up to no good.

"Michael, I want you to listen to me. I know you don't have that kind of money. And whatever you are thinking of doing to get it, I want you to promise me that you won't."

"I wasn't-" Mike starts to object, but of course she won't let him get away with that.

"Yes, you were. And I don't want you doing something stupid just for me. It's not your job to look after me. I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to look after you first. So whatever you were planning on doing, don't. Promise me."

"I promise," Mike says, his half formed ideas about finding someone to buy Trevor's pot dissolving before his eyes. 

When he leaves her nursing home, he doesn't know what to do or where to go. The midday sun beats down on his skin as he starts the long walk home. His phone rings and it's Trevor calling. He hates Trevor more in this moment than he has ever hated anyone in his whole life, and when he picks up the phone he says, "You sent me into a drug bust, Trevor. What makes you think I could possibly want to talk to you right now?"

"Look, Mike, I'm sorry, okay. I didn't know."

"Of course not," Mike replies blithely. "I get screwed over because you don't know the whole story. Gee, where have I heard that before?"

"It's true. Once I found out what was happening they pulled a gun and kept me there."

Jesus, is Trevor really expecting sympathy from him? "I don't care, Trevor. You sent me into a drugs bust. That is not okay."

"Look, Mike, you know I didn't mean for that to happen. But I need the drugs back."

Mike laughs then, because of course, _of course_ Trevor cares more about his stash than their friendship. Trevor has always found things to prioritize over Mike, and he doesn't know how he is only just realizing that. And fuck Trevor for never putting him first, for never caring about their friendship as much as Mike does. "It's gone," Mike lies, and it feels better than it should, finally making Trevor hurt for once. "I got rid of it when I saw the cops."

"Fuck, Mike," Trevor groans. But Mike doesn't want to hear it. He hangs up before Trevor can get another word in and just keeps walking.

He walks for hours, but he doesn't know what to do. He can't leave Grammy like this. She raised him, looked after him, and deserves so much more. But he doesn't know how to fix this. He won't break his promise, but he has no other means of getting the money for her.

He doesn't know why, but just for a moment he's tempted to call Harvey. Which is ridiculous, because they aren't friends, are barely even acquaintances, and there is no way Harvey could help with this. 

He pushes the impulse aside, just keeps walking. 

 

 

Harvey leaves Pearson Hardman and decides for once to walk home. 

It's been a long fucking day, and losing himself in the crowded city streets feels pretty good right about now. Despite it being just past nightfall on a Tuesday night the noises of the city bubble around him. It's a comforting cocoon, and he can lose himself, just forget all his problems and become one of the masses.

And then because fate (or New York) is a fickle mistress, who does he happen to (literally) bump into but one Mike Ross.

"Mike," Harvey says when Mike automatically murmurs an apology and tries to keep walking.

"Harvey?" Mike replies, looking at him now, completely surprised.

Harvey runs his eyes along the length of Mike's body. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, looking a good five years younger than he looked in his suit, but Harvey also can't deny he looks better this way, more real. And yet, "You look like shit."

Mike laughs, a little ruefully for Harvey's liking. "Thanks, Harvey, appreciate that."

"What's going on?" Harvey asks, like they are two old friends bumping into each other instead of what they actually are: two strangers who have spent a grand total of twenty minutes in each other's company. And yet, somehow, it _feels_ more like the old friends scenario.

"Long day," Mike replies, rather cryptically. 

"Tell me about it," Harvey agrees.

"Why, what's wrong with you?"

"Long week," Harvey replies, just to get one up on Mike, and Mike smiles, like instead of being annoyed or offended he is nothing but charmed by this facet of Harvey's personality. "Come on," Harvey says. "Wanna grab some food? You can tell me all about your long day."

"Only if you tell me about your long week," Mike says, but he falls into step beside Harvey as they head to a nearby restaurant, and Harvey finds himself agreeing easily.

 

 

"You hired the guy I was pretending to be?" Mike asks, incredulous.

Harvey nods. "Yup."

"What's he like?"

"Well, he graduated in the top ten of his class. Average height, average build, average personality."

"You don't like him," Mike observes, because Harvey looks so completely bored by this topic and he figures there is some other story here.

"Oh, did I not mention he's also a fucking idiot who acts like he couldn't find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight?"

" _The American President_? Really?"

And Harvey grins at him, like he has just passed some test he didn't even know he was taking. He finds himself returning the gesture, and it's like something in him settles. It's actually kinda scary, how calm he feels in Harvey's presence. Because he's still a loser who got kicked out of school and doesn't have a steady job and can't afford to take care of his only living relative (while Harvey is obviously successful and rich and probably has squillions to spare, and they so do not belong in each other's world), but being here with Harvey, he doesn't feel any of that. He feels like the best version of himself, like the man he actually _wants_ to be: worthy, honest, unbroken.

But those feelings are too scary to dwell on, so he says, "Well, you know, you have no one to blame but yourself. You could've had me and my awesome brain but you passed, remember."

He means it in a joking way, the urge to tease Harvey overwhelming (even though he tries not to think too hard on that, because it's ridiculous - they barely even know each other, and shouldn't like each other, and really, what are they even doing here…).

"Don't remind me," Harvey says darkly. 

Harvey's cell rings, saving Mike from having to reply. And thank fuck for that, because what was he supposed to say? Harvey basically just admitted to regretting not hiring him. And if he spoke, he might do something stupid, like beg for him to reconsider and fire Rick and hire him. And that would just be embarrassing for both of them.

Harvey murmurs an apology as he digs the phone out of his pocket and answers.

"What is it, Rick? … I'm busy … No … Of course they did, they're not going to make it easy for you … I don't care if you have to look through every book in the library, find a precedent and get it done."

Harvey hangs up the phone. Mike doesn't even pretend like he wasn't listening in to the conversation. "So, what did he do this time?"

"More like what he didn't do."

"Tell me about the case," Mike says, even though he expects Harvey not to.

But he does. "Well, I can't say too much obviously, but basically it's a sexual harassment suit. We're trying to get access to the CEO's company's files because we figure-"

"If he's done it once, then he's done it before," Mike supplies, getting a pleased smile from Harvey.

"Exactly. And if so, there would be proof of that. But they won't hand them over. They claim we're invading their employee's right to privacy. But there is something in there; we just have to figure out how to get to it."

"Hmmm…" Mike says, thinking the problem over. "Did they do an in-house investigation?"

"Yes," Harvey replies, sounding the word slowly, like he's trying to catch up to Mike's train of thought.

"Whoever did the investigation would have worked for the CEO. How can they thoroughly investigate something when they are looking into their own boss? No one is going to properly investigate their own CEO when they work for him too."

Harvey just stares at him. Mike doesn't know what's going on in that head of his, but he looks stunned and impressed and hungry all at once. But he won't be the one to look away first. He returns the gaze, a small smile pulling at his mouth, his heart beating hard in his chest.

 

 

Harvey has never wanted anyone the way he wants Mike in this moment.

He can't describe it. His mind is amazing, a force to be admired and feared in equal measure. The way he can challenge and help Harvey. And then there is the fact that they barely know each other, but the two times they have met Mike has impressed him, made him want to help Mike out in return.

And yes, Harvey regrets not hiring Mike now. How could he not? Mike has just proved once again that he is better than the lawyer he was impersonating. And regret is not something Harvey experiences too often. He resolves to do something for Mike, give him a helping hand, give him something in penitence for not hiring him like he should have.

After their waiter clears their empty plates Harvey leans forward and says, "So, tell me, how does someone with a mind as amazing as yours end up dealing drugs for a living?" Because, let's face it, if Harvey wants to find some way to help Mike out, asking about the drug dealing thing will probably clue him in pretty damn quick.

Mike looks offended by Harvey's question. But Harvey won't take it back. He's genuinely curious. This kid (okay, he's not really a kid, Harvey should probably stop using that word, even if it's just in his own mind) has the most untapped potential of anyone he has ever met and he wants to know how he could waste such a talent and still live with himself.

"I don't," Mike replies, almost defiant. "It was a one-time thing."

"Because you almost got caught?"

"No. And I didn't almost get caught. Remember me being smart enough to figure out they were cops because of a book I read in elementary school…?"

And Harvey can't help but laugh at that. Because he has a point. He used that brain of his to realize he was walking into a bad situation (based solely on a book he read twenty years previous), and not many people would've had the balls or brains to get out of that situation like he did. "Fair enough," Harvey says, raising his glass in salute before taking a sip.

"My friend, Trevor," (Harvey fights the impulse to groan at the name – he's never met Mike's so called best friend and he already hates him) "he's been trying to get me to help out for a while now. I was desperate for the cash, so I agreed. And after finding out he sent me in to get busted, sufficed to say I won't be dealing drugs anytime soon."

"What do you need the money for?" Harvey asks. There is something about the way Mike talks about it that makes him think it's not just for rent or expenses or something stupid. He didn't mention it in the interview, only saying he needed twenty five grand urgently and Trevor agreed to pay it.

Mike sits back in the booth, seems to consider him. Harvey remains unflinching under Mike's heavy gaze, tries to let him know that he can tell him anything. It's not quite his lawyer face, but it's close. It's his 'I actually care and you can tell me anything' face. He doesn't use it often. In fact, he can't remember the last time he felt so compelled to actively care about someone he didn't have to. And he doesn't know why it's happening now either, but it is, and he can't deny that.

"My Grammy. She's sick. She's in a nursing home but she needs better care. If I can't come up with the cash to put her into a private facility they're going to put her in a state home."

Mike takes a deep breath, like saying it out loud has made it real. He fidgets with his glass of water, avoids Harvey's gaze. 

"I'm sorry," Harvey says, the words feeling idiotic on his tongue. Because for once, words have failed him. He didn't know what else to say. This moment feels too heavy, too real, and it's terrifying.

When it becomes clear Mike isn't going to respond, Harvey murmurs a "Hey," to get his attention, forcing Mike's eyes to his. "Wanna get out of here?"

The words slip from Harvey's mouth without proper forethought and fuck did he really just come on to this guy he barely knows who is probably straight and fuck he just wants to take it all back.

But then Mike smiles, and says, "Sure."

 

 

"Nice place," Mike says, and his feet carry him over to the windows. They are large, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and the city sparkles below him. It's beautiful.

"Thanks. I like it," Harvey says, handing Mike a drink as he comes to stand beside him.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Um, about three or four years."

Mike takes a sip of his drink, looks around the room a bit more. It's the kind of place that looks a little too pristine for Mike's taste, like it was more concerned about how it looked rather than how comfortable it was. Mike couldn't help but compare it to his own apartment. Harvey's condo is so completely different – the kind of place he'd never choose for himself. And yet, he still likes it.

"It's amazing. It suits you. I can just picture you up here, looking down on the world below. Like you're just slightly apart from the city, looking down at everyone but not really looking down _on_ them, arrogant and endearing all at once."

Mike realizes he has let his mouth run away with him when Harvey doesn't immediately respond. He replays the words in his head and groans internally. Why does he always have to keep talking? Why can he never just smile and nod like a normal person??

He slowly looks up to Harvey, fully expecting Harvey to be laughing at him or some other completely legitimate reaction. Instead Harvey just stares at him, looking at Mike like he doesn't know if he is a complete stranger or the only person in the world who truly knows him. 

"There's something about you," Harvey says, eyes still fixed on him, a puzzle Harvey is trying to solve.

"Yeah?" Mike murmurs, voice low and rough. "And what's that?"

Instead of answering Harvey closes the space between them and kisses him. Mike would be lying if he said he expected this, but there is something about the way their mouths move together, practiced and perfect, and despite not anticipating this he can't help but think that there was something inevitable about it anyway.

 

 

Harvey leads Mike across the condo to his bedroom, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. As soon as they enter the four walls Mike's mouth is on his, his hands on his clothes, apparently doing his level best to get them off his body as soon as humanly possible. He's a frenzied mass in Harvey's arms, warm and desperate and Harvey can't help but reciprocate, peeling Mike's tee and jeans off like they have personally offended him.

They stand at the foot of Harvey's bed, Mike's hand down his pants. Harvey thrusts into the touch. Mike mouths at his chest, moans like he wants more. 

And then, as if Harvey's very thought has spurred him into action, Mike sinks to his knees, pulls down Harvey's pants in haste and before Harvey has time to register what is happening, Mike engulfs him. Harvey lets out a choked sob as Mike sucks him down, fingers pressing into Harvey's thighs as he bobs up and down. He looks up, keeps his eyes locked on Harvey the whole time. Harvey tries to not thrust into his mouth, instead runs a hand through Mike's messy hair. 

"Mike," Harvey says, pulling on his hair.

Mike gets the message. He slowly pulls off Harvey's cock, stands and kisses Harvey. It's dirty and frantic. His hands settle on his hips, brings Mike's body crashing into his. They rut against each other.

"Oh fuck. Harvey. Fuck me," Mike murmurs between kisses. "Please," he adds, almost like an afterthought, and Harvey groans.

He pushes his hips even closer, their cocks sliding together tantalizingly. Harvey knows somewhere deep in his soul that this man will absolutely ruin him. But he doesn't fucking care. Because he wants this even more, is desperate to push into Mike and come inside him, impatient in way he's never been with anyone else. 

He eventually breaks away, pushes Mike onto the bed. Mike grins up at him, more than happy at this turn of events. He rolls onto his stomach, spreads his legs, and Harvey, already painfully hard, feels like he could come just from the sight before him. 

He kneels in the space between Mike's legs, runs a fingertip along the length of his crack. Mike groans and writhes beneath him. Harvey reaches over to his bedside table and grabs the lube and a condom. He runs a tongue along the spine of Mike's back, lingers in the dip at the small of his back, hand gently kneading the flesh of his ass. 

He gets the condom on and his fingers lubed in record time, but even that quick break in contact seems too long to Mike, the younger man begging with a never-ending litany of, "Come on, Harvey. Fuck. Do it. Now…" as he rubs himself into the bed sheets, clearly desperate for friction.

Harvey gently presses a finger in, the action finally silencing Mike. He moves in and out, working him open as quickly as he can. They are both desperate now, Harvey wrapping a hand around himself as he quickly adds another finger.

But Harvey can't hold out. He has had more than his fair share of people in this bed, both genders enjoying the privilege, and yet he's never felt this desperate for anyone before. He positions himself along the length of Mike's body and slowly presses his cock in. Mike swears, pushing back to hasten the action. 

It's fucking amazing. Harvey pumps into Mike, quick and hard. Mike moans and gasps beneath him. Harvey wraps his arms around Mike's torso and maneuvers them both up onto their knees and Mike reaches out and wraps a hand behind them, rests it on the back of Harvey's neck. The other goes to his own cock and he starts pumping.

"Mike," Harvey murmurs, kissing his neck. He keeps moving, always moving, worries the skin of Mike's neck with his teeth. 

"Oh fuck," Mike whimpers, before he twists his head and captures Harvey's mouth with his own. He thrusts his tongue into Harvey's mouth, moans as they move, only breaks their kiss to cry out as he comes, spilling onto Harvey's sheets. 

Harvey, hands still on Mike's torso, presses Mike back harder against his chest, pushes his cock in deep and slow, comes with Mike's name on his lips before they collapse in a heap onto the bed.

 

 

Mike wakes unsure where he is. Not a pleasant experience really. He looks around the room – it's vaguely familiar. And then he sees the man lying in the bed beside him.

Harvey.

Mike can't help but smile as he looks down at Harvey. He didn't expect this. How did he go from agreeing against his better judgment to deal drugs for Trevor to almost but not quite tricking one of the city's best lawyers into hiring him to sleeping with said lawyer? How the fuck is this his life?

And the weird part was that he actually liked Harvey. Which is kinda ridiculous, because Harvey is so not his type. Okay, yeah, the guy was hot. Like, really fucking hot. But more than that, he intrigued him, engaged him. Mike couldn't remember the last time he ever felt intellectually connected to someone like this. Harvey is someone who could keep up with him, keep him interested, challenge him in ways no one in his life does. Because, as much as he loves Grammy and Jenny and, yes, even Trevor, none of them really satisfy that part of him. Granted, he thought that part of him was long dormant, but Harvey had reawakened it, that need to be respected and tested and the want to engage with the world at large. He was sick of slumming it, and Harvey helped him realize that.

He slides over, rests a hand lightly on Harvey's stomach. He presses a mouth to his chest, moves across the expanse of skin, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses behind. Harvey starts to stir, so Mike shifts his whole body so he lies atop the older man, swirls a tongue around his nipple.

"Mmmm…" Harvey moans, eyes finally fluttering open. "Morning."

"Good morning," Mike says, leaning up and kissing him. 

Harvey is instantly onboard, deepening the kiss. Mike aligns their bodies, his hard cock pressing into Harvey's, his movements slow and rhythmic. Harvey wraps his arms around him, shifts his body to counter the movements Mike makes, and together they create a delicious friction. Harvey throws a leg over Mike's hip, presses them closer. 

Mike nibbles on the stubbled skin of Harvey's neck and hears the older man whisper, "You feel fucking incredible."

Mike's answer is to press in that much harder. It doesn't take long for them both to come, and Mike can't believe how much he wants this. Harvey's arms are warm and real around him and they are slick and sticky and a few days ago he didn't even know Harvey and now it feels like they've known each other all their lives.

Mike presses his lips to Harvey's in a gentle kiss before rolling off him. He glances at the bedside table and notices it's already eight am. Fuck, when did that happen? "I should go," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a wad of tissues from the bedside table to clean himself with.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Harvey asks, sitting up in the bed but making no move to go anywhere himself.

"No, but you do," Mike says, starting to dress. "You'll be late for work if you don't leave soon. And I still have to find a job and figure out how to find twenty five grand in a completely legal way. So, you know, just a usual day really."

"Can I call you?" Harvey asks, and Mike, who has just put his shoes on, smiles at him.

"Of course." He spots a Sharpie on the bedside table so he crosses the room and picks it up, ignoring the notepad lying right beside it and instead grabbing Harvey's arm and writing his cell number on Harvey's forearm. Harvey watches with an amused expression and when Mike is done he leans down and briefly kisses him before turning and walking out the door.

 

 

Given the circumstances Harvey doesn't think he has any right to feel this happy.

Because Jessica has figured out that he palmed off the case and Rick is still an idiot and has done none of the heavy lifting on said case (when he points this out to Jessica her reply is: "Semantics"), and even though he won in court and the judge agreed that they could see the files, they sent over an entire rooms worth of boxes. So instead of taking Mike out for dinner (or taking him to bed, whichever happened first) Harvey is stuck with Rick in a tiny conference room, going over a million files.

But feel happy he does, because when he shucks off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before diving into the next box and pulling out a load of files, he sees the pale shadow of Mike's phone number against the smooth plane of his skin. 

Harvey can't help but smile. He didn't anticipate this. Mike was unexpected in every way. He crashed into Harvey's interview on bravado alone and when he was caught out they somehow ended up having a casual conversation about dealing drugs like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, to run into him mere days later in a city of millions, to take a chance and connect with him on every level… 

Not hiring Mike was a mistake. Harvey knows that now. Maybe they could've passed Mike off as a lawyer. Maybe Harvey could've hired him as his legal assistant and got him to do all the background and legwork, keeping everything above board. Looking at Rick slowly go through the mountain of paperwork he misses Mike's quick thinking and creative mind. Which is ridiculous, because they've spent but a few hours together and you can't miss something that you never had and yet Harvey can't help but feel that he has made a huge mistake, let an amazing opportunity pass just because of the risks it posed to him.

And Mike, as much as he wanted the opportunity to work with Harvey, his main motivation had not been himself but his grandmother. Mike hadn't told him the whole story, but Harvey got the sense that she had gone above and beyond the typical grandmother duties and Mike was trying to pay her back. 

Maybe it was better Mike hadn't come to work with him. That level of love and devotion was unheard of in his field, and would soon be quashed out of anyone stepping into the four walls of Pearson Hardman.

Harvey leaves Rick to continue sorting through the files while he takes a break, heads outside for some fresh air. The night air is still balmy and he can't help but stare at his arm, even going so far as to idly trace his fingertips over the black numbers. 

It hits him again, just like it did during the interview, just like when they were eating together, that need deep in his chest to help Mike. It's instinctual. He questions where this sudden desire has come from, why it's Mike above all others that he wants to be with, to help and protect. But he can't come up with an answer.

Instead he pulls out his cell and dials. "Vanessa, I have a job for you. I need to find out which nursing home the grandmother of one Michael Ross is currently living in…"

 

 

The worst part about having a brain like his is that it never stops. From the moment Mike wakes to the moment he sleeps it runs nonstop. Which means, on days like today, if Mike isn't thinking about Harvey he is thinking about the pot hidden in his oven or the bills he can't pay for Grammy or wondering what the fuck he is going to do now.

He needs a plan. Something to focus on, something to pursue and keep him occupied, something to keep him on course. Because the temptation to smoke up and just forget everything is so strong, but he wants more than that now. Living life from day to day, scraping by however he can, it's no longer enough.

So the plan he comes up with is this. One: get a job. Two: speak to the nursing home and do whatever it takes to convince them to let him pay off the money in installments. Three: call Harvey and go celebrate his win with him.

Mike nods to himself. Sounds like an awesome plan. (And he ignores the little voice niggling at the corner of his mind saying _wow that is the most overly simplistic plan I have ever heard and you know it's not going to be that easy right???_ )

Finding work in this economy isn't going to be easy, especially since he has no qualifications in anything and most of his work experience hasn't been on this side of legal. The last legitimate job he had was a few years back when he was a bike messenger. Figuring that's as good a place as any to start Mike heads to their dispatch center.

The same manager still works there and, unfortunately, she remembers Mike. They didn't exactly part on the best terms, but Mike is imploring in an honest kind of way, and if for no other reason than she has just had two people quit and they're short staffed, she hires him, starting tomorrow.

Mike is profuse in his gratitude, promises she won't regret it, and then he gets the fuck out of there before she changes her mind. He feels that rush as he leaves, that feeling that comes with being chosen for something, and the knowledge that a steady job might help with his Grammy's care is even better. Granted it's not earning $180k as a lawyer in one of the city's best law firms, but it's honest and legal and for now that's more than enough.

(And really, he needs to get over that. Being a lawyer is a dream of the past. Being with Harvey is as close as he will ever get to living that life.)

On a high, he heads to Grammy's to tell her the news. She lights up when he tells her. He even confesses vague and heretofore unrealized plans of maybe going back to school, studying part time. He knows that Grammy loves him, but in that moment, it's the first time in what feels like forever that he thinks maybe she is _proud_ of him. Because, despite how well he tried to hide it, she's always known his income was supplemented by less than savory occupations. And he knows that she can finally see what was always missing, that spark within, the desire to be responsible and grown up and finally take control over his actions and his life.

He doesn't spoil the warm ambience of the room by confessing that he still doesn't know what to do about her care, that if his half-baked idea doesn't come to fruition he has literally no backup plan and that wrenches at his insides. He figures it's best to cross that bridge when he gets to it.

After hugging her goodbye, Mike goes in search of the best person to speak to about the financial situation. The nurse at the front desk points him to the administrative wing and after waiting in a bland waiting room for nearly half an hour he meets with one of their finance administrators (who looks even younger than he is, and doesn't that just take this meeting to a whole new level of embarrassment).

"Hi, I'm Mike. Mike Ross," Mike says, extending his hand in greeting.

"Anne Russell," she replies, shaking his hand before indicating for him to take a seat. "What can I do for you, Mike?"

"I'm here about one of your residents, Mrs Edith Ross. I'm told she needs an upgrade in care which is going to cost twenty five thousand. I'm here to see if there are any … payment options available or … something…" he trails off lamely, with a shrug as an added plea for help.

Anne nods, sympathetic, but somehow still not giving too much away. Mike supposes he can't have been the first person who couldn't come up with a large amount of money on such short notice. But still, they probably have their own rules they need to adhere to.

"Let's have a look, shall we. You said her name was Edith Ross? And her date of birth?"

"February 22, 1929."

Anne types some things into her computer, and Mike watches anxiously as she types and scrolls and reads. But then a look of confusion comes over her face. She looks to Mike, and then back to her computer, face intent on whatever it is she sees.

"Mike, it says here the payment for her upgrade has already been paid."

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. He just sits there, trying to process the words. It makes no sense. "There must be a mistake," he tells her.

She shakes her head, looks back at the monitor. "No, there's no mistake. Payment was made in full. This morning in fact."

Confusion and a bizarre sense of dread flood his stomach. "Paid by who?"

"Um, a Mr Harvey Specter."

 

 

Harvey has attempted to call Mike four separate times since Mike left his condo yesterday morning. Time has not been on his side, what with the millions of files he and Rick have spent the last two days going through, and every time Harvey gets a minute to himself, he is accosted by someone with something that 'can't wait', and never once does he get the chance to even dial Mike's number.

But they finally figure out who else has been harassed by Hunt and he sends Rick off to talk to her and fuck it, Harvey's officially done for the day. 

He doesn't bother attempting to call Mike from the office (because he figures the fifth time won't be the charm), so he packs up and heads downstairs with every intention of calling Mike once he's away from the Pearson Hardman building and maybe asking if he wants to grab a late bite. Only when he gets down to the lobby, Mike is there.

He's sitting on one of the side benches, his knee bobbing up and down in quick succession. He hasn't seen Harvey yet, and the older man can't help but smile at the sight before him. Mike looks so small, sitting there alone, dwarfed by the high ceilings and empty cavernous space of the lobby. He's once again dressed casually, black jeans and a light grey tee, and he looks so completely out of place here and yet somehow that makes him even more endearing.

"Mike," Harvey says when he nears, unable to stop the smile on his face.

Mike turns at the sound of his name, stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waits for Harvey to come to him. Harvey is just so happy to see him (it's only been less than two days but feels like so much more) that without even thinking he leans in and kisses him hello. But Mike doesn't reciprocate, doesn't move, and when Harvey steps back he finally notices how rigid Mike looks, like he is desperately trying to hold everything in.

"What's wrong?" Harvey asks.

"What. The. Fuck. Harvey?" Mike grits out, like the words were so hard to speak he had to take a breath between each word to find the courage to keep going.

"What?" Harvey repeats, now genuinely bewildered.

"You paid for my Grammy's care?"

Oh. That. "Mike-"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Mike demands. His voice is louder than normal, and it echoes in the silent room.

"I just wanted to-"

"I mean, I don't get it. Was this some kind of payment for the other night? Twenty five grand for me taking it up the ass?"

"What? No!" Harvey cries, completely shocked by the mere idea of it. Because the truth was, it wasn't about that. He'd made up his mind to help Mike before they slept together, and it never even occurred to him that Mike could perceive this as some kind of payment for sex.

"Do you know how this makes me feel, Harvey?" Mike says, and his voice is smaller now, deflated. "You show up out of nowhere and ask me to dinner and I think we're connecting, enough to _sleep with you_ , and then I don't hear from you for days even though you said you'd call. But then I find out you essentially paid me twenty five grand. I mean, do you get it? How fucking used and stupid I feel."

"Mike-"

"I should've seen this coming," Mike continues, and it's like he's not even talking to Harvey anymore. Harvey's heart breaks as Mike steps back from him, like he is so offended by Harvey's mere presence. And this wasn't what Harvey wanted. He wanted to help, to build Mike up, only now it feels like whatever they have is crumbling into ruins around them. "First Trevor fucking sells me out, and then I meet you. And for some unknown reason I feel instinctively drawn to you, and I think 'here is a guy who is apparently smart and principled and maybe for the first time I've met someone who won't treat me like shit'. Well, I suppose it's my own stupid fault for thinking that maybe you could be different."

And then Mike turns and walks away, running a hand through his shaggy hair, and at first Harvey is too shocked to even move, can't wrap his brain around what has just happened. He watches Mike walk away and the thought comes crashing into his mind: _this can't be the end_. 

So he hurries after Mike, calls his name. Mike ignores him, makes it out into the courtyard before Harvey catches up. He hustles around Mike, steps in front of him and blocks his path. When Mike tries to sidestep him, Harvey reaches out, puts a hand to his bare arm, and it's like with that one touch all of Mike's will is sapped from his body. He physically deflates before Harvey, doesn't try and pull out of his grasp, doesn't try to walk away.

"I'm sorry," Harvey says, with more sincerity than he has ever used before when saying those two little words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Mike. You have to believe me; never once did it even _occur_ to me that you might think that was the reason I paid that money. Because it wasn't. I swear."

Mike slowly looks up and meets his gaze. He doesn't look convinced, still looks angry, but there is something there. Something like hope. "Why then?" he asks, voice small.

"Because I wanted to help you. That's it. No ulterior motive, no secret hopes for you to repay via various sexual acts. Just the blinding need to, for once, think about someone other than myself. Because you were right, Mike. You were so fucking right. I should have hired you. And despite all my experience and Rick's Harvard degree _you_ were the one who figured out how to break this case. So consider it payment for legal consultation, consider it a thank you, consider it a gift, but just don't ever think there is something underhanded about it."

Harvey feels the breath go from his body, physically exhausted by his proclamation. But he won't take it back, because every single word is true.

How the fuck did this become his life? This wasn't him. He didn't get emotionally invested. He didn't chase people down and apologize. He didn't care what people thought of him. And yet, it's like, with Mike none of that applies. But what's most surprising is the _purity_ with which he wants Mike. He doesn't care about Mike's past, only his future. He wants to help Mike for Mike himself, because he deserves it. He wants to be with Mike, but respects Mike's option to not want to be with him in return. 

And it's so ridiculous, because they barely know anything about each other. But Harvey can't fight the feeling that that doesn't matter. That this is just who they are, connected, meant to be part of each other's lives in one way or another.

But all that could be lost now. He just really fucking hopes it's not.

 

 

The thing is, Mike believes him. 

The words were surprising, because in the little time they had spent together he'd pegged Harvey as the 'keep everything to himself and buried deep within' type of guy. And maybe he still is. Maybe this is just a one off, maybe Mike's accusations had caught him by surprise and he confessed everything with no forethought, too caught up in the moment to worry about boundaries and keeping his heart hidden away. Or, maybe he's like this with Mike, and Mike alone.

He banishes the thought instantly. Talk about a deluded, self-important idea. He's not bringing out a side to Harvey that no one else does. Because real life isn't like that. It's messy and complicated and most of the time not one person is to blame for any discordances that arise. 

So yeah, Mike believes him, because he can see it in his face, the completely open and earnest expression gracing his features. But it's still overwhelming. And despite the fact that Mike knows Harvey had good intentions, he still just gave Mike twenty five grand and Mike doesn't know how to accept that. He's not sure that he can.

Harvey hasn't pushed, just lets them stand there in silence as Mike works through everything he's just heard. But then Harvey slowly steps forward, reaches out slowly enough to give Mike the option to stop him, and when he doesn't, Harvey cups a hand around the side of Mike's neck, let's his thumb idle back and forth over Mike's cheek. 

Mike sighs into the touch, stepping that little bit closer. Without his consent his hands reach out, rest on Harvey's hips.

Thoughts are swirling in his head, too fast to grab onto. He needs clarification. He needs to know what Harvey wants from him. He needs to know what all of this means. Because, the truth is, he's already fallen so fucking hard for Harvey. He needs to figure out what he wants, how to move forward.

"Can I ask you something?" Mike asks, tentative, because what he is about to say will probably sound really juvenile but he needs to be certain, needs to _know_ and not just assume.

And Harvey nods, dropping his hand, letting his fingertips trail down Mike's arm as they both step out of the embrace.

"Do you like me?"

Mike can tell Harvey is surprised by the question, so much so that he can't help but contort his face into an expression that screams _are you kidding me?_. But he answers anyway. "Yes."

"Do you want to be with me?"

" _Yes_."

Mike lets out a breath, feels the weight lift from his shoulders. Because regardless of the rest of it, he and Harvey are fundamentally in the same place, where they both feel that connection and desire. But still, this isn't the best way to start a relationship. He needs to think about it, needs to decide if this is something he can get past.

"Okay. But I need some time, Harvey. Is that okay?"

Harvey nods, clearly just happy that Mike hasn't cut and run. "Take as long as you need." And this time, when Harvey leans in to kiss him, Mike lets him, presses his lips back against Harvey's in a simple embrace.

Mike heads home, his brain a cacophonous presence he can't escape. Even within the safe cocoon of his apartment, it doesn't let up. Despite how much he hates the expression, there really is no better way to describe the last few days other than 'a rollercoaster of emotions'. There was the drug deal, almost getting caught, meeting Harvey, having a way to pay for Grammy's care slip through his fingers, Trevor being an ass, Grammy making him promise not to do the only thing he could think of to help her, meeting Harvey again, talking to and sleeping with and falling for Harvey, still not knowing how to help Grammy, finding out the guy he just met paid for Grammy's care, reacting instinctively to this and feeling almost like a prostitute – used and stupid and just plain confused, the anger at Harvey's actions and his deafening silence, and finding out Harvey's intentions were completely pure and he liked Mike and wanted to be with him. It's been an unrelenting few days, with no time to just sit back and think.

But he has that time now. He needs it, because he knows that this is one of those moments, the proverbial crossroad in the journey of life. And whatever path he chooses will ultimately make a massive impact on his life.

What it all boils down to, Mike decides at 3am as he lies on the couch with a pounding head, is that, while he appreciates Harvey's intentions and can get over the miscommunication and his erroneous assumptions about Harvey's motives, there will always be this imbalance between them. No matter what, it will always be hanging over his head, this thing that Harvey did back when they first met, and if they are going to move forward into a relationship it should be on equal footing. Because if this thing between them is going to last (and Mike can't plan for any other alternative) then they need to be partners, equals. And he refuses to let this become a chip on his shoulder or something he ends up resenting Harvey for or something that they each can fall back on during a fight when they're trying to gain the upper hand.

There is only one solution he can think of. He doesn't think it's breaking his promise to Grammy (maybe bending it) and even if it is, given the circumstances he doesn't think she'll mind.

So in the morning he calls Trevor and says, "Trevor, I have your stash. This is what you're going to do. You are going to pay me the twenty five grand you owe me, and in exchange, I'll give you your briefcase back."

"And if I don't?" Trevor asks, because he is clearly an idiot who thinks he can outsmart Mike now that he knows Mike didn't get rid of the pot, and really, that's just stupid.

"Let's see. I could tell Jenny everything. I could hand the briefcase in to the cops, give them a full account of what happened."

"They'd come after you too," Trevor says, but Mike can hear, despite how sure he is trying to sound, the slight tremble in his voice.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm willing to risk it. And," Mike can't help but smile as he says, "I just happen to have an amazing lawyer."

 

 

Harvey has never been a 'wait by the phone' type of guy. He's never had reason to before. His whole adult life there have been but a handful of people he has connected with enough to have an exclusive relationship with, but even then, it wasn't like this.

Luckily he has work to keep him occupied, because waiting for a phone call that may or may not come feels like the quickest way to drive himself mad. And there's a lot of work to be getting on with, what with their witness being caught lying under oath and Rick being unable to get her to testify.

They are at a dead end. Nothing seems to be working. But there's something off about this case, something he can't quite put his finger on. He needs someone to talk it through with, bounce ideas off, but Rick, as has been established, is an idiot and that would get him nowhere. He could ask Donna. She has a sharp mind, and has been working in the legal world long enough to know a thing or two. But she's busy enough as it is, and, as awesome as she knows she is, she is still his assistant and he would never live down going to her for legal help.

There's really no alternative. There is only one person who could get in the mindset of Hunt, sleazy bastard that he is. So he goes to Louis.

They hash it out for nearly twenty minutes, Harvey pacing the length of Louis's office the whole time, and still nothing. He wishes Mike was here. Mike with his brilliant brain that not only seemed to always be in line with Harvey's but could also bring some desperately needed new perspective to the situation. 

And so what if he wasn't qualified? He was still more interesting and creative than everyone here. He wishes, once again, that he had hired Mike. A fake employee would be better than a real one at this point.

_Fake employee._

"Louis, what if Joanna wasn't really an employee?"

"What are you talking about?"

"She's a fake. She manipulated us. She was a diversion, made to keep us busy and then ‘accidentally on purpose' lie under oath so we couldn't use her, knowing we wouldn't have any other defence."

"Yes," Louis snaps his fingers, grinning. "Like when I fire people from the mailroom in front of the associates to keep them in check."

"You fire-" Harvey cuts himself off. Now is not the time to debate Louis's ethics. "Never mind. I gotta go. Thanks, Louis," he adds as he leaves Louis's office. He's about to head off to see Joanna Webster but, in a moment of generosity, decides to detour to Rick's cubicle and take him with him. Because he's stuck with Rick, at least for now, so he might as well show him how it's done.

In the town car over to Joanna's apartment, the car enveloped in Ray's CD of choice (today it's _Ima Robot_ ), Rick sitting beside him and silently reading through the files one more time, Harvey gets out his cell and texts Mike.

_I know I said I'd give you time, and I am. Just wanted to let you know I'm here and ready whenever you want to talk._

There isn't a reply for a good twenty minutes, but the muted buzz of his cell indicates he has a text and he tries not to be too apprehensive as he opens the message.

_I know. Thanks Harvey. Been pulling double shifts at work. Are you free on Monday for dinner?_

Harvey grins.

_Absolutely. My place? 7pm?_

They are just pulling up to Joanna's when he gets the reply.

_It's a date. :o)_

 

 

Mike paces the small space of his apartment. He isn't nervous about the deal about to go down (and those words have such a negative connotation, but what else does one call the exchange of illicit substances for a large amount of cash?), more about seeing Trevor again.

It feels like forever since they've seen each other even though it's really only been a week. Yet in that short space of time Mike's whole life has changed, and he can feel the space between them grow like they've had a whole lifetime in-between. Part of him will always love Trevor, because they've known each other their whole lives and he was there for him at a time when no one else was, but he doesn't _like_ him anymore. And he can't keep pretending that everything is okay.

Trevor bangs on his front door, and it's weird, because Trevor always just barges in without knocking, whether Mike is home or not, and he thinks that maybe Trevor knows it's over too.

He opens the door and Trevor walks in. He at least has the grace to look contrite, the first words out of his mouth an apology. And Mike appreciates that. He just doesn't care anymore.

"Did you make the payment?" Mike asks instead, because he just wants this over with.

"Of course," Trevor replies. 

But Mike doesn't trust him anymore, and despite Trevor's protests Mike calls up Anne to check.

"Hey, Anne. It's Mike Ross," Mike says, eyes on Trevor the whole time, defiant. Because the old Mike would've just believed whatever Trevor told him, and he wants Trevor to feel the pain of the lost trust as acutely as he feels it. Trevor makes a face and turns away, collapses onto the couch, but doesn't protest beyond that.

"Hey, Mike," Anne replies, cheerful.

"Did that payment come through?" Mike asks. He had already advised her that a second payment would be coming through so it wasn't automatically rejected as a duplicate.

"Yes, we received the money this morning."

"And the refund?"

"Taking care of it as we speak."

"Thanks, Anne. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem. Take care, Mike."

"You too."

Mike crosses the room to his kitchen, relief rolling through him in waves. Because part of him never expected this plan to work, for it to fall apart like everything else always seemed to. But it didn't. It fucking _worked_ , and he can feel the promise of a new life before him, bright and shining and he's so excited by it he wants to cry. For the first time in as long as he remembers, he feels hopeful.

He opens the oven and digs the briefcase out of the bottom pizza box, gladly hands it over. "Here," he says, shoving the briefcase into Trevor's hand. And then he walks to the front door and opens it for him.

"Come on, Mike," Trevor says, tone a mixture of pleading and scepticism, like he can't believe Mike would have the will to cut him off for good, but if he wants him to play the part of the repentant friend for them to be cool then he will. "You know I don't want to live in a world where we're not tight."

He smiles brightly at Mike, and just for a moment Mike remembers all the good times, all the reasons he and Trevor have been friends for so long. But then, just as quickly, Mike thinks about Harvey, and his stomach tightens at the thought, his mind mentally counting the hours until he gets to see him again (fifty-one). Suddenly saying goodbye to Trevor feels like the easiest thing in the world.

"And I don't want to live in a world where my best friend sells me out. We can't always get what we want. Goodbye, Trevor," Mike says, and when Trevor walks away without another word Mike closes the door behind him, leaning on the back of the solid wood, and breathes deeply.

 

 

Harvey spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to wear, and he hates every minute that he goes through his closet looking at the options, because really, he is not a fifteen year old girl about to go on her first date. He is a grown goddamn man and the best lawyer in the city and he has already slept with Mike. It shouldn't really matter what he wears. In the end he settles for dark blue jeans and a black button down, and he spends the intervening minutes nervously pacing the apartment and straightening anything that looks even slightly out of alignment.

"Hey," Harvey says fifteen minutes later, grinning brightly, when he opens his front door to see Mike on the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," Mike replies, smiling shyly.

"Come in." Harvey steps back, opens the door even wider and allows Mike into the apartment. 

He moves in slowly, looking at Harvey like he isn't sure of the protocol, and in the end he just stalks straight by him. Harvey's fingers twitch with the need to reach out and touch Mike, pull him into an embrace, feel him warm and solid beneath his hands in reassurance that he is really here. But instead he slides his hands into his pockets and asks, "How are you?"

"Good, thanks. Exhausted, but good."

Harvey walks to the kitchen and Mike follows, sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter while Harvey opens the fridge and grabs a couple of longnecks. He moves easily around the kitchen, opening the bottles and eventually handing a beer to Mike as he sits on the empty stool next to his.

"Yeah, you said you were working a lot. I assume drug trafficking doesn't actually come in double shifts, so I take it that means you have a new job?"

Mike smiles. "You are never gonna let the drug dealing thing go, are you?"

Harvey likes the implication of such a statement, that there could be times months and even years down the road where they are still together and he still gives Mike shit for meeting because of an aborted drug deal. And it sounds so right, that Harvey replies, "Never."

They look at each other, Mike's gaze tentative under his own, but he doesn't look away, and Harvey thinks he understands all the words that go unsaid with that simple answer.

"Well," Mike says, apparently finding the moment too heavy as he looks away, "you'll be happy to know I have secured completely legitimate and legal employment."

"Doing what?" Harvey asks, genuinely curious.

"Bike messenger. It's something I've done from time to time over the years. It's good work, keeps me nice and fit. But the first few days back are always a killer as your body adjusts."

Harvey didn't know what occupation he expected Mike to procure so quickly, but it wasn't that. Regardless, he's just happy he's found something on this side of the law.

"What about you?" Mike asks. "How is the harassment suit going?"

"Done. Closed it off today, as a matter of fact," Harvey says proudly.

"What happened?"

"Turns out the second woman we found who we thought was also harassed was actually someone the CEO planted to distract us so we wouldn't look for other evidence. But then we realized what he'd done and threatened him with witness tampering. Suffice to say after that he settled for a generous amount."

Mike's eyes widen, completely enthralled. Harvey tries not to imagine how all of this would've gone down if he'd had Mike as his associate.

"Wow, that's insane. How did you figure it out?"

Harvey can't help but smile when he says, "You."

Harvey sees Mike's features darken with confusion. He doesn't say anything for a while, and Harvey can tell Mike is trying to figure out how he was the inspiration between point A and point B. He obviously comes up with nothing because he eventually asks, "Um, how?"

"As has become my habit I was having my daily 'I wish I had hired Mike' moment and thinking that as a fake employee you'd be better than my actual qualified employee, and it came to me that maybe she was a fake. So we looked into it and I was right. So, it seems that even though I didn't hire you, you still managed to break this case on two separate occasions."

Mike just blinks at him, and Harvey loves that he has thrown him. It feels intrinsic to their dynamic, that push and pull, the way they continually surprise each other. 

"I kinda don't know what to say to that," Mike confesses at last, the words slowly filling the space between them.

Harvey tries to catch his eye, but Mike won't let him. He looks around the condo instead, won't let himself look Harvey in the eye. He doesn't know the reason for Mike's evasion, can only assume that despite (or maybe because of) everything that has happened between them in such a short time that he's struggling to cope with Harvey's statements. But Harvey won't take it back. It's true. Mike helped him break this case twice without even being there and he feels like … since meeting Mike he has become sharper and more invested in everything while at the same time feeling like he's been wandering around in a daze that no one but Mike can penetrate. It makes no sense, the contradiction, but it's the only way he can think to describe how completely upside down he feels since meeting Mike.

"Um, Harvey," Mike says, eyes focused hard on the kitchen.

Harvey follows his eye line to the completely pristine kitchen, or more accurately, the complete lack of dinner being prepared. "Oh yeah, about that. Work ran later than anticipated and I didn't have time to cook dinner."

Mike just looks at him, the _that's total bullshit - I don't believe you for one second_ screaming from his face. 

Harvey laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I admit it, I can't really cook." And with impeccable timing, his front doorbell rings sharply. "I can however order pizza like no one's business."

 

 

By some tacit agreement they agree to wait until after they've eaten to get to the heavy stuff. Instead Harvey brings the pizza into the lounge and they set up camp on the couch. Harvey turns on the TV and flicks through the channels to find something to watch, stopping when he comes across _Mississippi Burning_ (seemingly because Mike mentioned that he loves that movie even though it's already three quarters of the way through).

Mike can't believe that Harvey remembered. He takes a bite of the chicken and mushroom pizza, the flavors combining in an amazing way, and he smiles at Harvey. Because somehow Harvey remembered that when they were at dinner the other night Mike was vacillating between the pizza and the parmigiana and even though he ordered the parm, Harvey remembered his favorite pizza and ordered it for him tonight.

"What the hell?" Harvey says in disbelief as he pulls a slice of pizza out of the box.

"What's wrong?"

"They made a mistake. There's _cheese_ in this crust."

Mike can't help but laugh at how personally offended Harvey sounds. He makes a big show of taking a bite of the crust, forms a face like he pretends he's mulling over the taste while he chews. Harvey just stares at him the whole time (and Mike tries to not think about Harvey's gaze heavy on his mouth). 

He eventually swallows and declares, "It's awesome."

Harvey makes a face but silently takes a bite of the pizza. Mike grins and turns his attention to the TV, settles deeper into the couch. Despite all the things yet unsaid between them they manage to make it through the meal by talking of nothing: the movie, the pizza, the best places in the city to hang out on a warm summer night…

When the movie finishes Harvey keeps channel surfing until he lands on ESPN. There's a news story on the upcoming game between the Giants and the Dodgers and Mike asks Harvey who his team is, not even remotely surprised when Harvey tells him the Yankees. This of course leads to a passionate debate on the merits of the Yankees vs the Mets, with Mike insisting that cheering for an underdog is way more emotionally fulfilling as a fan, while Harvey counters that the Mets can't really be considered an underdog when they have a 93 million dollar payroll. 

They argue good-naturedly, with none of the heat of their previous fight. The conversation spins into a dozen different tangents, and by the time it's done Mike has learned three important things. 

One: Harvey used to play baseball when he was a kid. He blew out his shoulder before the championship game and his team won anyway. If he'd kept playing he could've been good enough to go pro, and despite how much he loves his life and his work, a part of him will always wonder what that life would've been like. 

Two: Harvey has Michael Jordan's phone number programmed into his cell. Mike calls bullshit and Harvey happily hands over the phone and dares Mike to call. Mike's fingers hover over the call button but he gives the phone back with an honest 'I believe you'. 

Three: Mike could so easily fall in love with Harvey. And he really shouldn't, because, as he's already thought numerous times, they come from completely different worlds and are in such different places in life and yet somehow that manages to work _for_ them and not against them. And yeah, maybe it's too soon to even be considering words like _love_ and _forever_ but sitting here with Harvey he just can't help it. It's how he feels: warm and settled and, as cliché as it sounds, home.

The conversation somehow digresses to Harvey's pre-law days at NYU and Mike thinks this might be a good segue into the more serious conversation they need to have.

"You know, I've been thinking about going back to school," Mike says softly, eyes averted as he speaks the idea aloud, afraid he will see something he doesn't like in Harvey's reaction.

"Really?" Harvey says. "To study what?"

"I don't know. It's stupid really…"

"No, it's not," Harvey says intently, and the depth of his vehemence makes Mike meet his gaze. "It's not stupid and it's not too late and I think it's a brilliant idea."

Mike can't help the flush of pleasure. It's more reassuring than he can say, Harvey's approval, because sometimes he thinks his life is just him bouncing from one crazy idea to the next and he didn't know if this was any different. But Harvey's reassurance makes him think that maybe it's not completely insane.

"Well, the idea was inspired by you in a way," Mike says. Harvey looks at him, surprised, and he likes the way it brightens his face. "Meeting you that first day, having the promise of a new life wrenched away-" Harvey grimaces at that, and Mike immediately reaches out and covers his hand with his own. "No, Harvey, it's fine. I get why you didn't hire me, and it was probably really wrong of me to ask that of you. But spending that time with you and fighting for a new life, I realized that I wanted more. That I had fallen into a rut – well, maybe 'gaping chasm' would be a more appropriate term. But I don't want that anymore. It's time for me to grow up, take responsibility, contribute to the world. I want more from this life and it was you that made me realize it."

Harvey doesn't say anything for a while, and Mike starts to panic, thinking maybe he has said too much, that he's revealed how deep this thing with Harvey already is when he is inspiring major life changes. But then Harvey smiles, lifting Mike's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. Mike can feel his heartbeat quicken in response but he tries to remain impassive, on the outside at least.

"I'm glad, Mike. Really. And I'm sure you'll be amazing at whatever you choose. So, have you narrowed it down to a shortlist or anything?"

"Not really. Still just exploring my options. Let's face it; I have a pretty major black mark on my record from the last time. I think my options will be pretty limited."

Harvey looks at him a moment, head tilted to the side as he examines him. Mike furrows his brow, confused at suddenly being under Harvey's scrutiny.

"Have you considered being a paralegal?" Harvey asks. "With a mind like yours, you'd be amazing at research. Hell, you're practically a walking library as it is. It varies enough from day to day to keep you interested, you can be dealing with multiple cases at once, so it'll keep you on your toes. It's perfect."

Mike smiles, because it kinda is. He would never get back into pre-law after the test incident, but this sounds like it could be a viable option. 

"Maybe…"

"I mean, not that I get a vote or anything, but if you are still even considering it I think you should give law another go. I have some friends at Harvard. I could help you." 

Mike smiles, touched at the offer. "I know. And I appreciate that. But I don't want your help, at least, not for this. My last academic career ended because of Trevor, because he convinced me to do something I didn't want to. I don't want my new one to start with someone's help. I think I need to do this on my own."

"Okay," Harvey says, understanding.

Mike takes a deep breath. He can't put this off any longer. "Speaking of you helping me – or, as I like to call it, being a pushy bastard who just can't help interfering – we should talk about the money thing."

Harvey seems to steel himself in preparation for this conversation, sitting that much straighter. "Mike-"

"If you check your bank accounts tomorrow you'll find all the money has been returned."

"What? How?" Harvey asks instantly, looking borderline panicked.

Mike shrugs. "I got the money another way."

Harvey just looks at him then, and Mike knows he thinks that means he got it in less than legal means. This is confirmed when Harvey says, "Tell me."

"I didn't do anything illegal, okay." At Harvey's continued stare he relents with, "Okay, actually, I don't know where reselling the pot I didn't get busted holding back to its original owner falls in the legal spectrum, and to be honest I don't fucking care. It got the pot out of my apartment, Trevor out of my life and your money returned to you. I call that a win-win-win."

"You didn't have to return the money," Harvey says, eyes downcast, and there is something in his voice, like he is genuinely hurt by this.

Mike shifts closer to Harvey on the couch. He reaches over and cups a hand around the back of his neck. The touch gets Harvey's attention, and he looks up at him. Mike can't help but lean in and kiss him, a soft pressing of their lips. When he withdraws, Harvey looks placated.

"Yeah, I really did," Mike tells him earnestly. "Look, I love that you cared enough to do this. But the next time you want to help just ask me first. I'll admit that I'm slightly screwed up but I'm not broken. Don't try and fix me."

"I wasn't trying to fix you," Harvey says urgently, like it is imperative Mike knows that he doesn't think him weak or damaged. "I just wanted to help."

"Well, like I said, I appreciate the sentiment. But if we're going to be together, if we are going to work, then this is what I need to do."

"I've never wanted to help anyone the way I want to help you," Harvey suddenly says, words coming out in a rush like if he doesn't say it now he never will. "It's actually a little scary."

Mike gives him a little half smile before leaning in and kissing him. He lets it deepen this time, hands cradling his jaw as their mouths slowly open to each other. Without breaking the embrace Mike manages to maneuver himself so he sits in Harvey's lap, thighs pressing into Harvey's hips. Harvey's fingertips slide under Mike's tee to trace the skin beneath. They kiss languidly, like they have all the time in the world. When he eventually pulls away, Mike smiles reassuringly at him. 

"Believe me, I understand."

Because for some unknown reason, in a city of millions, they found each other, found this connection which Mike knows is deep and profound and that is fucking scary. But it's also exciting and liberating and he has never felt this way and never wants to again (because he has no intention of giving this up). And Harvey's grateful smile tells him that he feels all that too. They are in uncharted waters here, both of them caught completely off guard by this, but also unwilling to let it go too.

Harvey kisses him then, runs his hands up and down his ribs. Mike can't sit still, hips rolling, grinding deliciously against Harvey. The older man groans, drags his mouth from Mike's and slowly makes his way down his neck. Mike's skin tingles where Harvey's tongue dips to taste it. He slides his hands down Harvey's chest and grabs a fistful of his shirt between his fingers.

"So, just for the record, does this mean we are officially together?" Mike asks before claiming Harvey's mouth once more.

Harvey grabs Mike's tee and pulls it over his head, throwing it onto the floor behind the couch. He claims Mike's mouth, runs his hands over the expanse of white skin in front of him. He trails a line of kisses down Mike's chest as he murmurs, "Well, I wouldn't move your things into Wayne Manor just yet, but yes, I want us to be together."

Mike has managed to unbutton Harvey's shirt and Harvey has managed to work his way back up Mike's torso to claim his lips before Mike has fully processed Harvey's statement. He pulls back and out of Harvey's embrace, grinning.

"I'm sorry, did you just compare yourself to Batman?" he asks, laughing.

Harvey grins stupidly at him, waves an arm to indicate himself and the room at large. Mike looks around and, okay, Harvey has a point. Stupid enigmatic bastard with his penthouse in the sky and completely endearing everything. Mike shrugs in a _fair enough_ kind of way before leaning in and kissing Harvey once more. 

His fingers work quickly to unbutton Harvey's pants. He slips his hand in, grasps Harvey's warm cock, fingertips idling lightly up and down the shaft before he wraps a hand around him. Harvey moans into his mouth, squirms in his seat as he tries to push up into Mike's hand. 

Clearly deciding turnabout is fair play, Harvey gets his hand down Mike's pants too, his hand steady and sure as it pumps slowly. When he rubs a thumb over his slit Mike breaks their kiss with a gasp. Harvey repeats the action and Mike braces himself with a hand to the back of the couch, presses them closer together. He can feel Harvey's breath on the side of his face and he speeds up his movements on Harvey's cock, but it's no longer enough.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Mike murmurs.

"Likewise."

Mike gets up off Harvey's lap and pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs. Harvey remains sitting but also divests himself of his shirt, jeans and briefs, their clothes mixing together in a pile on the floor.

Mike climbs back onto Harvey's lap and wraps both arms around Harvey's shoulders. Harvey's large hands settle on his hips, fingertips light on his skin as Harvey leans in and kisses him. The embrace is slow but deep, tongues dancing together in a perfect rhythm. Mike starts rolling his hips, rubbing their cocks together. The friction is tantalizing. He keeps a steady rhythm, their bodies pressed together, warm and simple, and it feels fucking perfect.

Mike feels so turned on, he doesn't know if he is more desperate to come or to drag this out for as long as he can. His body feels electric, every synapse firing at a rapid rate, and each roll of his hips, each place where their skin touches makes his stomach clench with overwhelming desire.

Mike slides a hand between them, wraps it around their aching cocks. Harvey breaks their kiss to moan in approval. He presses his mouth to the place where Mike's neck and shoulder meets, sucking at the skin before biting softly, claiming him with his mouth and teeth.

Their bodies start to move frantically, swiftly bringing them closer to the inevitable. Mike spreads the leaking pre-come over their hard cocks, slickening his movements even more, and it drags a sigh from his lips.

"I've been thinking about this for days," Harvey utters against his skin.

Mike grins. "Likewise."

Mike is desperate now, and if how hard Harvey's fingers are digging into his hips is any indication, Harvey is too. Mike seeks his mouth for a deep kiss before pulling back. He quickly licks a stripe down his palm before returning his hand, working it quick and fast, and he keeps his eyes fixed on Harvey. The older man is slightly flushed, breath coming in short gasps. Mike bites his lower lip as the arousal spreads throughout his body. 

"Harvey," Mike says, and he hates the way his voice breaks halfway through, hates how vulnerable he sounds, but that's exactly how he feels. Looking at Harvey, he feels a wave of emotion suddenly wash over him, feels the weight of everything that has happened this last week, and he can do nothing but hold tighter. He feels like he's giving himself over in every way. And he's never done that before and he needs some reassurance that this is okay, that Harvey will respect the gift he is giving.

Harvey smiles softly at him, rests a hand gently on the back of his neck, fingers nestled in the short hair at the nape of his neck. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. I'm right here with you."

Mike can feel it explode within him, and when Harvey whispers, "Come on, come for me," he does, coming with a cry, head thrown back as he spills between them. He keeps pumping his hand, won't stop until he makes Harvey come too, and it doesn't take long, Harvey's pelvis thrusting as much as it's able given Mike's weight and he comes with Mike's name on his lips.

Mike collapses forward, his whole body still shaking as he comes down from his orgasm, Harvey's arms wrapped around his warm and slick body. The sound of their ragged breath fills the empty space, and Mike feels safe, settled, happy.

 

 

Harvey is vaguely aware of the sound of the shower running, but he's still lingering in the space between sleep and wakefulness. He shifts slightly, burrowing deeper into the warm cocoon of the bed, eyes closed, content.

He doesn't know how much time has passed but by the time he opens his eyes, resigned to the waking world, Mike exits the en suite and enters the room, fully dressed with damp hair and a blazing smile.

"Good morning," Mike says.

"Hey," Harvey replies, voice raspy from the early morning.

Mike crosses the room, leans down and kisses him. When he makes to pull back Harvey doesn't let him, grabbing his forearms and pulling him down. Mike laughs but doesn't put up a fight, his body falling onto Harvey's as the older man claims his mouth once more.

They lie there and make out for a stupidly long time, and Harvey doesn't even care that he probably smells ripe and has morning breath while Mike smells clean and fresh and tastes like Harvey's toothpaste. He just feels absurdly happy.

"I used your toothbrush," Mike says when they are done, as if he has read Harvey's mind.

"I'll buy you one today," Harvey replies, running a hand through Mike's shaggy hair.

"Or alternatively we could just go to my place where I have my own toothbrush," Mike counters as he gets up off the bed.

"But then I wouldn't have one," Harvey points out, and Mike throws a wide grin over his shoulder as he walks out of Harvey's bedroom.

With a groan Harvey throws the covers off and pads over to the walk-in, grabbing the first pair of pajama pants and t-shirt he can find and throwing them on. When he walks into the lounge he discovers Mike on the couch, tying up his converse.

"You're leaving?" Harvey asks, trying not to sound disappointed.

Mike looks up, and he can see that Mike would definitely much rather stay too. "Yeah. I gotta go. Gotta get to work."

He stands and pats himself down, clearly making sure he has everything before he heads off. Harvey meets him by the front door, and they stand there together. Harvey suddenly thinks of that first day, when they lingered together at the Chilton hotel room door, each reluctant to part. And he knows part of him will forever regret not hiring Mike. But he also knows that if he had, then he might never have this. And he can't say for certain that if he had a choice between the two that he would be willing to give this up, not even for that.

"What time do you get off?" Harvey asks.

"Around three. I'll call you when I'm done."

Harvey nods.

"Have a nice day, _dear_ ," Mike says, over emphasizing the last word.

Harvey rolls his eyes, a gesture completely lost on Mike as the younger man leans over and kisses him.

"Get out of here, you," Harvey says, playfully swatting Mike on the ass.

And with one last brilliant smile, Mike walks out the door.


End file.
